Reinmar's Rebirth - A Phoenix Rises
by mimic330
Summary: The story of how Reinmar Von Sulz, a young Redanian noble turned Witcher rises from the ashes of chaos in the most dangerous times he is yet to witness. - Based on The Witcher School LARP from 5zywiolow.
1. The Aftermath

With blood still leaking through his fingers clutching to his chest, the Swallow burning down his throat coagulating the blood only to have it crack as he breathes, the tears flowing from his cheeks as the pure panic and adrenaline are the only things keeping him standing, Reinmar's gaze lifts from the bloodied stones on the floor to vaguely recognizing Bastian who he seems to lean over, the Phoenix apprentice clenching his face, blood dripping from his chin.

Near them, Gedymin lay pinned under Frederick, his Nightsaber friend trying to subdue their crazed tutor. Cecilia on the ground, she who warned them all while none of them listened, blood dripping from her throat, clenched by another adept he could not see.

And then the world spun... It all went dark. An impact coursed through his body as he hit the floor, his body giving in from the injuries. "I can't die now... Not like this."

"Those able to walk, bring the injured inside!" the newly appointed Grand Master's voice boomed across the courtyard, causing several heads to turn. Only a few responded to the command, many standing baffled, some masters still shaken from recovering their control, eyeing the carnage around them. "EVERYONE!" the bellow came, Grand Master Bastian stepping forward, a hand on his shoulder, covering a minor cut, a wrap already tightened around his leg. "Every second will cost another life! Any hand who choses to chase after vengeance might as well strike the killing blow to your nearest brother or sister! This is not the time for hesitation!"

A brief moment of silence followed, only for adepts to move forward. A few managed to organize though the synergy of groups had all but vanished. Confronted with the need to work with adepts they have never even spoken to. "You three!" another voice speaks up, the clear voice of Master Lennard, "Take servants with you to the great hall and clear tables. Get fresh cloth and boiled water. Go!"

And just like that, movement once more erupted on the larger adepts moving to pick up those too wounded to move and those who have lost consciousness. Reinmar being one of them, remembering only the big strong arms picking him up, through hazed eyes recognizing the man, his lips moving to form the word "Jaeger.." before his vision went black, his hearing waning and arms dropping by his sides.

"IGNI!" the telltale shout came with a surge of agony coursing through Reinmar's body, his eyes flashing open to see Master Jodok over him, his white fur caked in blood, some of his own, most of it not, his yellow eyes glaring down at the adept, his hand upon the injured adept chest, searing shut one of the bleeding wounds. "Wrong time to wake up, adept!" the master shouted down.

They were inside. The great hall was turned into a medical ward. Adepts groaning upon the tables, tended to by masters and adepts alike, pressing upon wounds to stop the bleeding until one of the masters could tend to them.

Right next to Reinmar were the Brigden twins. Fennet was awake, hunched over his sister Seanna, his hands pressing upon a wound upon her stomach, her eyes shut and head hanging against his shoulder. He could see him shouting but could not hear the words as his consciousness was slipping again, seeing only Master Vester administering a potion to the girl, his hand covering her mouth to ensure she had to swallow before everything went black again.

"Jaeger! You cannot go after Gildart, think! You'll rush at him like lumbering oaf and that will be the end of you!" the distant sounding voice woke up the adept, renewing the agony spreading through his body. Too weak to move, he saw Master Elinor shove her finger into the Bear of Undvik's chest, his face a twisted glare of rage, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"You want to help? Finish getting the remaining adepts off the courtyard." she finished, a frown on her face as her gaze drops to her blade now colored red.  
Even now he could tell they shared the rage, but hers was contained, to be used as a precise tool at the right moment while his was an endless outburst of anger, promising a world of hurt to those who drove him to fury. Both equally terrifying, both equally dangerous.

"Reinmar, my brother..." a soft voice called his attention from the scene. Taking what seemed like minutes to turn his head to see Frederick by his bedside. His brow pulled together in a worried frown. "You should not move. Master Jodok has stitched your wounds and Master Vester has given you potions to the limit of your toxicity. How do you feel?"

His lips cracking and tongue dry, he opens his mouth to whisper and yet all he manages is a whimper from the sharp surges of pain in his chest, feeling torn open by only trying to breathe in enough air to make sounds. "It's alright..." the young Nightsaber hushed, placing a hand upon Reinmars forehead. "You shouldn't be awake anyway... I'll check up on you when you've rested..."

A large man leaned in, peering at Frederick who only nodded, uttering a single word: "Fever..."

"Him too? Go ahead." the large man's voice replied, referring to a previous arrangement.

Two fingers moved to Reinmar's temple when Frederick effortlessly called upon his arcane affinity, uttering the word "Somne..." and it all went dark once more.

The coming moments were too fleeting for him to remember, slipping in and out of consciousness as his wounds were being tended to.

Nightmares plagued him as his body was fighting both infection and the toxic nature of the potions he had imbibed. Reliving the Night of the Prophecy time and time again, facing a giant viper, coiled around him, sinking it's fangs into his chest and pulsing him with venom... Seeing a she-bear rampage through adepts without abandon. Seeing his fellow Phoenixes fall one by one, feeling their pain and agony as his own before the entire scene began once more.

Unaware of how many days had passed, his eyes opened slowly, groaning, he could hear the familiar voice of one of his friends, Bodil. "You're awake." she utters in the faintest of whispers.

"How... long..?" Reinmar's voice huffed, his throat barely able to make noise. A moistened cloth already dabbing at his lips by Bodil's caring hand. Greedily sucking at the droplets to get some of the liquid down his parched throat, his gaze remained on her for an answer. "Two days..." she replied, pulling the cloth away from Reinmar's lips who eagerly smacks for more, pushed back down by a firm hand. "Stay down... Masters say you're not allowed to move." Bodil instructed him, pulling her hand away from the bandages stained in red from the blood still seeping through the fresh stitches.

Too weak to protest, he merely nods once, leaning back into the pillow only to then realize he's been moved to a bed in the great hall. His eyes now scanning the darkness, recognizing it is night.

He saw Baldwin, his golden badge upon his arm sitting by the bedside of Master Ruta who was badly injured during the battle, her apprentice keeping tireless vigil, his eyes trailing around, showing sincere exhaustion yet nothing gave any indication he would move away.

Further down the hall, Master Jodok sat on a chair being tended to by Master Algir stitching a gash in his back. Jodok's eyes being on Anselm, the young Frostwolf apprentice who was wrapped in bandages made out of curtains. They were talking too quietly for any words to be heard.

Fennet and Seanna, still next to him, were both sleeping. Fennet's head upon the side of the bed as he sat on his knees on the floor, Seanna was deep in slumber but their hands joined so firmly one would think them inseparable even when unconscious.

He recognized Captain Mia in a far corner tending to one of the injured stripes, overhearing talk of their travel for the next mission with the other Temerians.

Near the flicker of a torch he saw the twin blades of Svar hunching over Martin, his apprentice and Reinmar's friend. They were locked in a deep discussion before he briefly saw Martin look back to observe the bloodied hall only to stalk out of the hall, the door creaking shut behind them.

"I'm glad you're alive..." Bodils voice broke the silence, a hushed whisper as to not disturb those sleeping. Reinmar's gaze once more shifted over to her, only capable of offering a smile, his lips cracking once more, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. The physical pain no worse than the emotional damage that occurred. The realization that they all stood alone at times most necessary. A witchers worst enemy being himself... The monster he risks to become.

"Smile for me?" Bodil's voice once more utters, almost pleading. But no response came this time. Her heart as heavy as his with Jana's departure without any notice. He knew she would go look for her. What would be his next path? He wondered, recalling talking to Ruta and Jaeger. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted once more, causing Bodil to once more push him down. "Don't go anywhere now, Reinmar... I still need to thank you for helping me get Master Bastian elected."

Again, no response came. Though not even a glance, Reinmar's gaze stark and staring in front of him. "Reinmar?..." Bodil's voice came out again before her eyes widened in terror as the first tremor coursed through his body, ripping several stritches as his body contracted for the next shock. "I need a master!" came Bodil's shout, turning some heads and waking Tammas who looked up, his cold eyes turning to see most of the masters and caretakers still asleep, he stood up to tilt Reinmar's head back, the white foam forming in his mouth seeping out. Tammas' hands working quickly to grab a thin wooden log and shove it between Reinmar's teeth which quickly began to clatter on the wood, saving him from biting his own tongue.

A fur-covered figure appeared quickly, swooping through the injured gracefully, uninjured. A white lock covering the side of her face and a pari of analyzing eyes dropping on the situation. "He's having a seizure." she finally diagnosed.

Amanda Drachens of Oxenfurt was one of the most talented apprentices with an especially keen eye for alchemy and mutagens. "Too many potions. His body can't handle it." she continued, reaching into her pouch out of which she procured a vial with a clear white liquid. "White Honey?" Tammas inquired. With a single nod from Amanda, she poured the liquid down the open mouth the moment Tammas removed the baton, pushing the tongue down with his fingers instead in order to force the mouth open. Bodil was leaning in in order to keep him still. "He's the fifth tonight. I'll tell Vester he can't have any more Swallow. Get Frederick, Master Jodok needs sleep. Only normal medicine can help him now." Amanda instructed, stepping out as she once more stored her vial. "I need to make more in case others decide to be unable to hold their potions."

Bodil and Tammas could only nod and Amanda was gone again, her cape flowing behind her, striding with the same confidence a master would and surely as it came, the tremors subsided.

"I'll take care of him... You guys get some sleep."

The voice startled both Bodil and Fennet, only to see the Temerian captain standing by the bed. Her hands on her hips and shoulders squared in a posture that would offer no compromise. "I know field medicine and you're both exhausted." She added before any protest could be offered by Bodil. Fennet, who woke up to see it all happen, had not left Seanna's side, pulled the blanket back over his sister, glad to not have been forced to assist and leave her side.

Bodil finally nodded, having to admit she had exhausted everything, still recovering from her own wound, she slipped away, gingerly looking over the hall of injured before going out of the hall to her own bed.

"Liar." came a voice behind the captain, Frederick emerging from the shade he was waiting under. "True... But I knew you were here." Mia admitted flashing a brief nod before holding out the bandage kit to Frederick with a question as clear as an instruction would be; "How can I help?".

The two worked for the better part of an hour to redo the stitches that broke along with refreshing the bandages and wiping away the pus. Frederick using what he learned and his books whilst giving the captain instructions, working in unison for the sake of their friends life.

"Just conventional medicine for you hrm? You're a difficult man, Reinmar." Mia sighed once their work was done, wiping blood off her hands onto a cloth previously used to clean wounds. "Tell me about it..." Frederick agreed before turning to the next patient. "You're alright to stay with him?"

Mia's response came in the form of a nod.

That same night, his eyes opened once more, blinking away the haze, his body limp and weak, his hand resting in that of Mia who remained by his side for the better part of the night.

"Ah. Didn't think you'd wake up in time." she grinned, tilting her head to the groggy young adept desperately trying to get his bearings. "We're leaving at sunrise. We got another assignment."

Her voice stern and professional, her message like an announcement to one of her troops. It took Reinmar a moment to wet his lips before he could speak up, a faintest hint of a smile on his gaunt and pale face. "...So...formal." he utters, barely a whisper.

This caught the captain by surprise. Her face contorting in a smile before biting her lower lip, her eyes gleaming a bit brighter, reflecting the dancing flame of the candle before she cleared her throat, her voice as solid as she can muster. "Don't you die, Reinmar von Sulz." came the order, her posture straight and shoulders squared, though the smile breaking through as she leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on Reinmar's forehead, a feeling of a stray tear upon his skin. "I still have a lot to tell you... So find me."

Those were the last words Captain Mia of Temeria said to her friend before rising, a hand flashing over her face before she resumed her professional posture, stepping over to the other Stripes, finishing their packs for the road.

The next time Reinmar woke up, she was no longer in the great hall, nor was there any signs of the Blue Stripes. They had left at daybreak leaving him to wonder when he'll see his friend again.

The next couple of days progressed slowly and uneventfully. Unable to move as of yet and sleeping for several days at a time, his bandages were refreshed with those the castle staff managed to clean well enough, Reinmar fought off several fevers and managed to dodge the dangers of festering wounds thanks to the care of Frederick and master Jodok. During the moments he was awake, he got visit from Olena, Gedymin, Jaeger and others. Some brief, some lasting an afternoon. And yet despite the visits and conversations, Reinmar felt a void within him, one that grew before the Night of the Prophecy and only festered as the chaos and destruction happened. His mind often wandered to what would be next for him. Would he go to Kaer Tiele? Stay here at Kaer Marter? Perhaps the Path and try his own luck. He didn't know and the drumming pain in his head did not favor thinking.


	2. The Bitter Pill

"It's time to wake up…"

A gentle voice is heard, rousing Reinmar out of his sleep. His eyes squinting as he is faced with the bright daylight seeping through the window.

The hall is much less crowded, indicating more days have passed since the last time he slept. The recovery has been a difficult road but his body and the mutagens have succeeded in fighting off the settling infections. Many speculate that a normal man would have perished in the first night from those wounds. "Lucky I'm a freak…" Reinmar's mind wandered idly, causing a faint smirk to form on his lips.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he could see Master Jodok still by Anselm's side, aiding his apprentice in getting back up, finding his balance. The Wolf and his Alpha in silence, needing no words to communicate as they work their way to full health.

The same could be said from Baldwin, now standing by Master Ruta who was slowly walking a straight line between some beds, her steps slow but steady, defying the pain and injuries with a determined glare that could leave no doubts to her goal. Her apprentice never too far, ready to stabilize her should she falter, and yet an unconditional faith in her strength shown in his proud posture growing with every moment her step quickens.

The twins were there still, though awake and talking, their tones hushed. Fennet offering a single polite nod as his gaze crosses Reinmar's before continuing his work on renewing Seanna's bandages.

"If you keep sleeping like this, you'll grow lazy." The same gentle voice once more speaks, this one right by his bedside. Reinmar's brow raises, not recognizing the red-haired woman though clearly recognizing her Wolf medallion. A faint grin on her face shows she recognizes the look, sighing as places the basin of water by the table. "Erin. I'm one of Master Vester's Maggots."

His first question already answered and the basin of steaming water and cloth revealing the second one, he opens his mouth to speak only to be interrupted once more. "Six days. Since that night." Erin replies to the last unspoken question. "They all ask the same questions. Unless they know me, then they just ask how long they've been out for."

Her hands moving up to pluck at the bandages and untying the knots keeping them around his chest, she moves with precision and care. It is clear these are not the first bandages she has changed nor him being her first patient. A scrutinizing gaze trailing over the injured young Phoenix. "The infection has been fought off. Well done. Your wounds are still raw though and the stitches will have to stay for a while. But at least I can wash the smell off you."

Reinmar's gaze once more lands upon the bowl, the dried blood and pus still on his body, the dirt from that night encrusted on his skin. He shifts as Erin bows low, her nose near his chest, sniffing loudly. "Whoa! Shouldn't I buy you a drink first, lady?!" his voice raised in protested, more out of old habit than anything else.

This startled the young woman, peering up with blinking eyes before her cheeks take on a red hue, clearing her throat and straightening up to regain her composure. "Don't be daft. It's Erin, not lady anything. I was checking for gangrene. You're welcome, by the way."

"Reinmar…" his answer came, but a few seconds late as she then proceeded to carefully clean the dried blood and dirt from his body. "You've done this before."

"You could say that… I've been taught quite well." She replies, the hidden compliment not lost on her. "You're one of the Phoenixes, then?"

Reinmar's head nodding a confirmation, "How did you know?" he asked, only to have her raise a hand to tap the black cloth with the red phoenix upon his arm. "You didn't get a head injury, from what I can tell." She grinned, never interrupting her work. This brought a chuckle from Reinmar though quickly interrupted by a hiss and grunt, his head throwing back from the surge of pain coursing through his body. "Oh, sorry! Don't laugh." Erin's reaction came quickly, her hands bracing the most critical stitches to avoid their snapping once more. "You're alright there, Reinmar, just relax."

"Oh damnit… don't be funny. For now, yeah? We'll catch up on laughter another time."

This brought a grin to Erin's face, nodding her accord.

The coming day, Reinmar managed to remain awake and could see how the hall was divided in groups. There were different adepts and masters each tending their own group of beds and patients. At one glance he recognized Frederick handling minor injuries in the corner where the Blue Stripes were but a fortnight ago. Amanda was often seen resupplying Swallows and White Honey near what seemed to be a medicinal corner overseen by Master Vester. The chaos had diminished, giving way to a steady organization of the health flow. It almost seemed peaceful until the door once more flew open, hitting the walls with a resounding bang as Master Algir was seen dragging a bleeding Master Sid into the hall, his face contorted in a focused glare. "What happened?!" some voice rang up in the hall. "Is that Master Sid?" some others asked.

"Blade cut to the side. Not lethal but he needs treatment." Algir's words were to the point, nodding at Jodok who immediately went to work.

"What happened here?!" came Grand Master Bastian's voice as he got in the sick bay, quickly followed by Bodil who probably went to warn him.

"Sid got into another Fisstech withdrawal fit. He was outside 'asking' students and it got out of hand." Algir resplied, intercepting the Grand Master's stride to offer a reply quickly, wanting to keep the situation from escalating.

"Get me those adepts. They should be taught a lesson!" The words rang clearly as the grand master turned to walk out once more.

"Bastian! You can't. Tension is high and everyone is on edge from what happened. Sid gets intense, you know what he's like… Maybe he put on his crazy eyes and students thought it was happening again? They didn't kill him. See?" Algir's words came quickly, his hand firmly on Bastian's arm to stop his momentum.

A moment of silence followed the reasoning, Bastian's stance portraying the epitaph of a soldier, hand on his sword, the other by his side, his back straight and shoulders squared, jaw set before another voice broke the silence. Heads turned as if only now noticing the man clad in black. For many, that was the case as Gedymin had been there for a long time. Reinmar had not seen him all day, having been awake and glancing around a fully lit room.

"You should listen to Master Algir, Grand Master." he said in his typical calm tone, stepping forward "Punishment will cause distrust, division and animosity that's a bigger enemy than a mage in our heads, don't you think?"

The words quieted down and Bastian nodded twice, unable to refute the logic given by the two masters, he proceeded to pass judgment. "Very well. Assign them to Master Sid's treatment. No steel enters this hall in the hands of an adept. This is a place of healing. Perhaps that will grant them insight."

Bastian's gaze landed on the adepts, following his words "And maybe then the beds will remain empty…" he sighed before turning to leave.

Reinmar had but give Erin a questioning look to get it answered, her sigh one of clear sorrow. "Every day…" she began, resuming her work once the turmoil had settled. "… new people are brought in with fresh wounds. Some are training recklessly to surpass masters in case it happens again. Others go out of the schools borders and are ambushed by the townsfolk or wandering creatures. And then there's the infighting… that night caused a lot of distrust and the fuses are shorter than ever. Everyone is looking for someone to blame. Master Reinecke even left, saying he'll return once the Drama Queens have gotten their priorities back in order. His words, not mine."

The news did not come unexpected, though anyone would have hoped this would not have been so. The idealist in Reinmar had even hoped this hardship would unite Wolf and Cat to face a common foe, but it had only caused more division and individualism. For many, this wasn't the first tragedy they had encountered, and yet for most this was one too many.

"Can I have some time with my student?" the familiar voice of Gedymin snapped him out of his thoughts only to see Erin nod and slip away, moving to tend to her next patient and leaving Reinmar alone with Gedymin.

Their eyes briefly met which sent Reinmar right back to that dreadful, images of white flames lighting up the night sky. The black rush that was Gedymin's charge, assaulting Cecilia, watching the blood gush from her chest. The struggle against the stones. "You have to wake up!" he heard his own voice echo with growing despair before the agonizing sting came of the Vipers bite, tearing him open.  
The image vanished just as quickly, sending him back to the great hall, sitting upright in his bed, eyes wide with terror, his face pale and glistening with sweat.  
"Do I scare you?" Gedymin asked calmly, as if oblivious to this reaction.  
A proud surge of defiance grew in Reinmar, swallowing down hard to try and focus his breath to answer without faltering voice only to have his chance at an answer robbed by the rhetoric nature. "You should fear me, you know. For as long as you're unable to kill me."  
The words rang in Reinmar's spinning head, his emotions and rationale clashing and granting him no respite to respond to the man once respected above all others. "Why didn't you?"  
Gedymin continued what seemed to Reinmar like an assault of questions. This time, the man raised his dark eyes to firmly lock with the still insecure gaze of Reinmar only to have him turn his gaze away to sigh out: "I couldn't.".

"And why is that?" Gedymin asked, prodding at the mental wounds, those who had festered over the days, untreated by Reinmar's refusal to deal with the trauma. "Did I not try to kill the people you care for? Were not enough people in danger? Would you have reacted if I killed them more brutally, cut open their chest or decapitated them? Was my intend to ki-..."  
"It wasn't you!" Reinmar's voice burst out, turning a couple of heads in the hall, Erin's gaze landing on the scene with a worried glance, nearly stepping forward only to be grabbed by the shoulder by Master Vester who merely shook his head as enough of an instruction, turning her back to her current work.

"It might as well have been me, you fool!" Gedymin spat, his words made of venom before his face turned into a disbelieving smile, frustratedly brushing his hands over his head. "Have you not remembered anything of what I said, Reinmar? You need to think and decide. Your trust in me left you wide open and in panic. You lost control and because of that you almost lost everything else."  
Reinmar's body was shaking, though not from the strain, but of the quaking of his chest. The tears now flowing from his eyes despite his defiant glare, refusing to admit the words wounded more than those vicious blades ever could.  
"I'm sorry…" his voice finally cracked, eyes closing in defeat. A loud thwack echoed across the hall, turning those who had respectfully turned away. Jodok's voice calling "Gedymin! Careful!"  
Reinmar grabbed his cheek which quickly took a deep red hue from the backhanded slap he had just received, the tears having stopped and his eyes wide open, staring at Gedymin in disbelief. "The Phoenixes mean a lot to me, but I am not your teacher. I am not your Master, I don't do that shit. I guide you on your own Path and you need to choose for yourself. I will not hold your hand, I am not a nest for you to crawl in for safety."  
Despite the act, Gedymin's words held no rage, no hate, no disappointment. Some people might even have called it a weird kind of affection. "I believed in you when you chose not to become a Blue Stripe despite my advice because that was your own choice. Use that and start thinking for yourself again. Or, you know… Weep like a weak child and be forgotten. I won't wait around for you to die."  
A careless shrug followed his words as the man clad in black leather stood up, turning to walk away. "You weren't there when I needed you." Reinmar's words spat back, its venom weak and lacking confidence as the lesson was sinking in. "Thank you…" Reinmar uttered in a light hush, his eyes locked on Gedymin's back who slowly walked away, a grin playing on his thin lips, having his faith restored in his young adept. He patted his hand on Master Algir's shoulder in passing, heads leaning in for a brief word before they both departed the hall, leaving a few confused gazes from some, whilst others merely continued their business.

Neither Reinmar nor Gedymin would admit that they made peace with what happened in that very moment, each in their own way. While much remained unresolved between them, there would be no further unspoken hate or rage. They both had to now decide how to continue and that choice would determine when they would meet again. This fact was very clear to Reinmar and no more than ever, he realized what Gedymin has been saying ever since they met six months ago.

"Any other wounds you'd like to get before I patch you up again?" Erin's familiar voice came up next to him, snapping Reinmar's gaze away from the door to peer up at the fire-haired woman. "I count three burst stitched and a bruise on your jaw."  
The boyish grin given as only response by Reinmar made her chuckle, tossing a cloth on his chest before turning away. "I'll get fresh string. You wipe your face. The crybaby look doesn't suit you." she said before leaving the hall and in turn leaving Reinmar to sort out his thoughts. And for the first time since the Night of the Prophecy, he began to think of what he would do next.


	3. Getting Up

Erin was gone for several minutes. Perhaps she went to get something to drink or a bite to eat. What time was it anyway? Reinmar wondered, having lost sense of time or how long he's been in the sick bay. The day crawling by slowly. An hour passed and the telltale sound of a horn blowing outside reminded him they were still at Kaer Marter. A smile formed on his lips as he entertained the thought that everything was getting back to normal.  
The illusion did not last however as but a moment later the door swung open with a violent crash. "Master Vester!" the shout resounded as a large adept came into the room. Another one of the Maggots, he recognized.  
The adept was one of the largest. He towered as high as Master Jaeger with the same square build in his shoulders. Reinmar vaguely remembered him as Benedict. His thought confirmed as Master Vester replied with his name, stepping forward with haste as he spotted Erin in Benedict's arms. The young woman was hanging in his grip, her eyes closed and face pale. A red stain upon her green clothing quickly growing.

"Another attack?" Vester inquired as he reached into his cabinet for Swallow. Benedict shook his head gravely as he placed her on the bed previously occupied by Master Ruta who had stopped her exercise to observe the scene. "No… I found her unconscious by the supply stores. Her wound, Master… it looks bad." He growled, his voice deep and thick with worry.  
As the large adept stepped back to give his master room to work, Reinmar could see his hands balled to fists as if to maintain his calm. This only worsened as Vester spoke up in a nearly bored tone though the frustration no less clear. "Foolish girl. She's been treating her own wounds and faking her health."  
Erin had indeed been downplaying her injuries in order to help. The young woman having been selflessly using leftover supplies of past treatments to patch up her own injuries and make herself available for the injured had finally collapsed, pale as snow. Reinmar could see her very faint and shallow breaths only thanks to the heightened senses the mutagens offered him for another would have thought her dead.

Her treatment passed like a blur as Reinmar kept his gaze locked on her bed, his brow knitted together in a worried frown. His mind briefly wandering to why he had not even bothered to ask how she get out unscathed. He quickly banned these thoughts from his mind before giving them time to take hold. He had decided six months ago not to let these things affect him. Others decisions were not his fault. And yet this time, he could do nothing but spectate as Master Vester and Benedict were working quickly, diagnosing the situation.  
"It's not gangrene… She's lucky but we'll have to reopen the wounds to clean…" Vester growled. This was the first time he saw the usually very composed master frown, the briefest crease on his forehead before resuming his work, instructing Benedict who immediately went to work upon given tasks.

It seemed like hours passed since Erin had gotten in. Time passed like a blur as the pair worked tirelessly and meticulously upon treating their fellow Maggot. Reinmar hardly noticed as Frederick had taken over Erin's work and had treated his injuries and applied a salve to the purple bruise on his jaw. They exchanged a few words but they both shared the same worries for their new friend.  
The sun had moved from one window to the other, leaving an orange hue in the great hall as it was setting, casting long shadows over tables and beds alike and trailing over the floor. As Benedict slowly left to inform his other brothers and sisters and Vester moved to Amanda in order to discuss the supplies after another day had passed.  
How much she had changed in just a few hours. From the bantering healer laughing and returning his wit, offering a peaceful joy despite everything, to a gaunt pale corpse-like body resting upon a bloodstained bed without any knowledge whether she was to live or succumb to her infection.  
With a muted plea to Melitele the darkness of the night brought Reinmar rest. His mind floating away to better times.

Reinmar dreamed that night, though not the nightmares that had plagued him but pleasant dreams of a time nearing an eternity ago. He saw his brothers, all five of them, smiling widely as they sat at the long table in the Von Sulz estate. His brother Gamling entertaining them with his latest tale of his hunt in his lands obtained by right of marriage. The scene shifted to his two sisters, both dressed in academic robes as they visited from their time as apprentice sorceresses. His sisters were two beautiful young women, eyes full of life and sharing the same wild spirit that resided in him.  
His mind dug further into that blissful joy that luxury once offered him, sending him to one of his many moments of frivolity. Recalling one of his many nights embracing nameless women, villagers he once praised for sheer beauty, finding his artificial joy in a woman's arms, alcohol, and the fun his allowance could buy in his material world.

"So. When will you get up?" a voice woke him from his dreams to see Master Ruta by the edge of his bed, a grin on her lips. One hand on her hip and another set against the table nearby. It wasn't clear whether she used it for support or convenience. Her dark eyes observed Reinmar briefly, her brow quirking as he didn't seem to answer. "What? Cat got your tongue?"  
Reinmar cleared his throat only to shift and sit up straighter, the jolts of pain causing him to hiss loudly at the sting in his raw wounds and stiffened muscles. His mind brought back to reality.  
"Oh come on, Reinmar. Yesterday you cried like a bitch and now you won't even speak without whimpering." Ruta taunted, tapping her hand at his leg, knowing this was one of the few uninjured places. This finally triggered the young man to find his voice, throwing a defiant glare in her direction. "Oh scram you, you're already full of scars, I'm only starting my collection."  
"Oh you poor puppy... " she grinned again, her eyes flashing dangerously as her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Do you want mommy to nurse you back to health?"  
Reinmar rolled his eyes before shaking his head, scoffing once and knowing full well he could not win this exchange, he chose to deflect her wit. "How're you recovering, Master Ruta?"

Before the Night of the Prophecy, Reinmar and Ruta had spent the better part of one night talking, exchanging their stories and discussing choices. This had awoken a deep respect for the master of Fool's Gold. Reinmar looked up to her as inspiration to deal with the more tricky parts of his mutations. In one night, this woman had taught him not to take anything for granted. To fight for what needs to be fought for despite the odds. Was it not for her words, Reinmar would have made a choice that would surely have killed him during that battle. It upheld an unspoken debt he intended to return one day. For now, it had given birth to an odd friendship he intended to cherish.

"I'm standing aren't I?" Ruta retorted, gesturing down upon herself, her grin never leaving her lips. "This brings me back to my first question. When will you get up?" she replied, causing Reinmar to exhale a soft sigh, gesturing down upon himself. "Whenever my body decides to move again." he replied, a faint hint of defeat in his voice which caused Ruta to plant her fist in a firm bump to his shoulder. Nothing hard enough to harm him, but enough to shake him and look up, Ruta's grin still present but the eyes showing the clear disappointment. "You still want to join us to Skellige?" she asked.  
As he inquired about this plan still happening, she merely nodded twice.  
"Whatever." she finally sighed, once more not getting an immediate reply. "We're leaving in ten days from now. Be on your feet by then, kid. And better be sure." she sighed, pushing herself back before limping slowly to the stairs leading to the door. A hand resting on her hip as she walked to keep a wound from rubbing over her clothing, her sword already on her hip.  
"Ruta!" Reinmar finally called after her, frowning at the sudden dismissal, he found himself struck as she turned sharply, her eyes in a dangerous gleam, her teeth showing in a sneer.  
"Shut up. Talk to me when you've come down from your cloud, adept, or so help me I will give you a reason to stay in bed for the coming months. I have no time to play nurse. The weak die in this world. And you look pretty pathetic to me."  
The next thing he saw was her back vanishing behind the door to the hall, closely followed by Baldwin, leaving him speechless.

The words had stung more than he ever expected. Ruta had not returned to the great hall in the days following that discussion. Was he truly weak? Had he given up? Reinmar refused to believe this, his eyes trailing over the hall as more beds began to empty. Two days later, the Twins had gotten up as well, Seanna requesting to get some fresh air and aided by Fennet, they walked out not to return as they found their way back to the routine outside. Five days after that, Anselm had also gotten up and walked out, a growl in his throat as he uttered for how long he had stayed down. His hand resting on his medallion, trailing a finger over the jagged edges of the wolf's fangs.

But not Reinmar… he had remained in bed. Frederick was in better spirits despite the exhaustion of combining studies with his duties in the great hall. He informed Reinmar that his wounds were beginning to close which is the best sign that the infection had been defeated. And yet Reinmar had not gotten out. Every attempt at getting up was defeated by the waves of pain rolling through his body whenever one of the torn and ravaged muscles had to move.  
Flat on his back he gazed up at the ceiling, his body refusing to heal as fast as he hoped it would, counting down to the ultimatum given by Ruta.

He felt empty by the time of the fifteenth day, defeated once more, he woke up by a large hand smacking his cheek. Not the same hit that left an ugly bruise, but that of a demeaning slap. Reinmar looked up into the grinning face of Master Jaeger who was strapped in his gear, swords upon his back. "You're still sleeping, then?" he asked, pointing at the comfortable prone position Reinmar was laying in. "You're fucking lazy, you know that?" he continued.  
"My wounds risk opening up again with every move I make." Reinmar complained, sighing as he slapped the sheet in frustration. "Didn't you leave with Ruta?"  
"Stop being a wimp." Jaeger spat at him. "I asked Ruta to wait for you, but she won't wait any longer. Why are you still in bed?"  
Reinmar had no answer. He felt like repeating himself about his stitches but as his eyes met Jaeger, he realized they were mere excuses. "Others are up, who were just as badly injured as you. Sure they're in pain but they're out there fighting to get back to their feet. And you're still here. Would you like a foot massage while you're here, Reinmar?"  
Jaeger continued on for a while, his grin never leaving, a careless attitude about him at every turn of word.

"I won't carry you. None of us will." Jaeger finally said, giving him a brief stare before moving in full view. "So… If you want to be my apprentice, you'll get up, get fit and catch up. Any questions? Would you like to hug?" the master instructed and followed with his demeaning instructions.  
"No…" Reinmar finally said, though interrupted once more, Jaeger finally continued; "Shut up and listen. We're going to Kaer Tiele first. Only for a short stop before we move on to Skellige. You don't show up, I won't consider you for my apprentice. You show up, we're back on track." Jaeger said, his stance proud and upright, an air of confidence only rivalled by Master Toril's when about to take a clean shot. "We're leaving now. If I hear you pussied out, you won't like seeing me again. I stuck my neck out for you and I don't like having that spat back at me."  
Jaeger turned to walk out, only to pause and peer over his shoulder. "So get up and prove Ruta wrong, yeah? See you on the Path or not at all." he finished, offering a half-hearted wave over his shoulder.

Finally the pieces fell into place. Now more than ever did he have a reason to become stronger, to become the warrior and disciplined mind a Witcher is meant to be. "You should fear me for as long as you're unable to kill me…" Gedymin's words echoed in his mind. The biggest proof he needed in becoming stronger, faster, smarter. He had to be ready for monsters even among those he loved.  
"Talk to me when you've come down from your cloud, adept." came Ruta's words once more, also echoing in his mind.  
He had indeed been on a cloud… Any illusion of healing in comfort, of having time to heal was but a delusion of luxury he had let goa long time ago.  
The injuries had made him complacent, happy to remain there in order not to face what was out there. If he truly wanted people to rely on, he would need to rely on himself first and face the truth.  
"If you want to be my apprentice, you'll get up, get fit and catch up" Jaeger's voice joined the other two in his moment of retrospective.  
His goals did not change. His plans had not changed. The battle had made everything harder but not impossible. He realized then that nothing would ever be easy, nothing would ever go as planned. "Start at the result… Then work your way back…" Reinmar uttered, grinning lightly as he recalled Master Lennard's lesson.

"Get up…" another light voice uttered, though this time not in his mind. Erin's eyes locked on Reinmar who looked back, her gentle smile once more present. "Go on, you crybaby… Get up. You've work to do." she said once more.  
Reinmar's lips turned to a smile, nodding once. One final glance was cast across the hall before he shifted his body again. This time, ignoring the sharp pains coursing through his body. Ignoring the complaining voice in his mind, the stretching of his skin.  
His feet touched the ground.


	4. Baby Steps

The fresh outside air of the late dawn filled his lungs which had grown accustomed to the rank smell of disinfectants and blood that would be invading the great hall for several days to come.

Reinmar stepped down the first flight of steps, feeling revitalized despite his unsteady steps being guided by his hand gripping the lion statue in passing.

"C'mon then… Yer slower than a blind lass." a familiar voice came from behind him.

He had never even heard her behind him, her delicate hand resting upon the back of the lion at the top of the few stairs, her sightless eyes gazing in the distance.  
"I'm sorry Gwen… I'm not as swift as I was a few weeks ago." Reinmar chuckled, grunting at the unpleasantness in his chest reminding him of his injuries.  
"Oh. T'is you. Rein-... Reinhart? Rein-... Oh forgive me, t'has been a while." she utters, her accent head bowing in thought.

"Reinmar. And yes it has. Two steps forward and at your chest height is my hand. Perhaps we can support each other when passing this flat without support." he responded, his hand already outstretched. "Yer still as gallant as all of 'em men among Witchers. The farmer and noble alike ready to help the blind girl." she said, a smile despite the bitter aftertaste of her word. Though she still took the offered hand, stepping down to be by his side, hooking her arm into his. "Six steps before the next steps're at our toes. Ye'll manage that." she said, squeezing his arm gently as the only gesture of genuine gratitude which was met by a smile Reinmar once more forgot she could not see.

As the two made their way down to the small terrace overlooking the lands outside, the telltale faint call of the lessons could be heard. "Fetch my arrows!" the call of Master Toril was carried by the wind to the pair.

Further to their left they heard another voice, strict and rhythmically calling bodyparts as students were running in circles, dropping the called part to the floor before running onwards. "Back! Forehead! Back!" Master Elinor's voice called.  
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was gracing them and keeping them warm despite the wind holding the remnants of the past winter's chill. Gwen's hair braided down her back with a small lock flowing backwards, her eyes closed as she relished in the sensation of the sun. Reinmar feasted his eyes upon the tapestry of everything having returned to normal for as much as they ever will. His mind returned to his conversation with Master Bastian before the election that took place.

"I will keep this place as what it is intended to be. A place of learning. A school, made to train young adepts into full fledged Witchers that in turn will find their own way. Not a garrison of elite soldiers to be used at a King's whim." the now elected Grand Master said to him and he kept true to these words.

"Yer trembling…" she spoke first, breaking a silence that lasted several minutes, her hand tightening as if to offer support. Reinmar nodded his reply before offering a response. "I just got out of the Great Hall." he said as if it would be enough. Judging from her reaction, this was indeed the case. A deep sigh escaping her lips that echoed an unspoken sorrow.

Several moments passed as some adepts nodded their head in acknowledgement of Reinmar's reappearance in passing to their next lesson. As the stairs grew quiet again, Gwen spoke once more, though her voice softer and more fragile. "The times are cruel… Aren't they? It seems everyone now carries physical and emotional wounds. Everyone's steps have changed… Even the tone in their voice." she uttered.  
Those words quickly erased Reinmar's fleeting thought of the luck her blindness brought, for she could see the horrors just as clearly as he could and even understand them better with senses sharpened by the lack of sight.

"Oh Reinmar.. I need to dream again. Tell me of the sky again." she finally pleaded, her voice a faint huff as she gazed up, past where his head is, with a hopeful smile trying to hide the sadness behind her eyes.

Reinmar exhaled a brief sigh before gazing up, remembering the first time he had explained the sun and the moon to her, how he had explained how water was like a mirror rippling due to the wink, like the sheets on an unmade bed. He wetted his lips as he pondered on how to explain what he saw before just letting words flow as he thought, using a child's eye.

"The plains on either side of the fountain stretch on for several steps before reaching the edge of the trees, interrupted by the bridge past the fork in the road which splits the forest in two all the way to the statue at the far end of the track. The trees sway in the morning wind, like a tall people dancing to the song of a flute."  
Gwen's hand tightened, the pain showing in her face at the mention of music, though a grateful smile for his smooth passing of the delicate subject.  
"And at the top, the trees thin out, showing a tapestry of clouds slowly moving about like a few sheep grazing on a field of blue." His words paused then, watching the woman lean against the banister, her shoulder resting against his side. Her voice speaking out softly, not wanting to let go of the image building in her mind "What is blue…? I've no concept of color.".

Reinmar's head was racing. What could he possibly say that would give her an idea of a color… How could he explain something so simple as 'blue'? Thinking of this made him realize that even the simplest of things were riddled with complexity, not to be taken for granted. "It's alright…" she finally said as if hearing his thoughts. "If it's too difficu-.."

"Blue is many things." Reinmar interrupted her. She settled back into her comfortable stance, leaning against him more as his words once more continued to paint the picture in her mind.

"Blue is the sky and the ocean. Blue is also a feeling. Blue is so much more than a color." he explained, letting his mind go beyond the basic ideas of what one can see, even closing his eyes. "But how d'ye tell them apart?" Gwen asked.

"The blue in the sky is an endless promise of mystery. Like a voyage without frontiers. It's also gentle and bright as it should rouse us and motivate us to start a new day. We call this sky blue." he explained.

Gwen relished in his words, impatient to hear more. "What of the ocean?"

"The ocean…" Reinmar began, needing but a second to continue. "The ocean is a darker blue. It's unpredictable as the surface is refreshing and clear. Though below it lurk dangers and adventure able to daunt even the wildest explorers."  
"How do you call that?" she prompted, her head lifting again to gaze past Reinmar's head as if she expected him to be taller. "Marine blue." came his answer, to which she nodded. "Makes sense." she stated before setting her head against his arm.  
"The emotional blue has no name… It's a definition… One can say they are blue and it won't mean they are colored blue… It would mean they are overcome with sadness."  
As his words came to an end, Gwen gazed up once more. "So… I am blue?" she said pensively. "Aye…" said Reinmar. "But your smile gives us warmth like the sun and gives us as much comfort as the moon in the darkest of nights."

Reinmar spent most of that day with Gwen, even helping her with some chores in order to learn to move around again despite the pain and stiffness of his faded muscles. They ate together and talked together for hours on end, even leading into the middle of the night.  
After bringing Gwen to her room and bidding their goodnights, Reinmar slowly made his way to his own and while his injuries were aching from the strain after his first day out of of the hall, he felt he was taking his first step to becoming a new man. He entered the hall only to slide into his bed. It took no time for sleep to find him as his eyes weighed heavy, enjoying the first night of quiet sleep in a long time.

As the first rays of the sun graced his room, Reinmar awoke from the steps down the staircase leading to the upper flight. Tammas gazed down at the bed, a faint grin on his face. "You finally decided to move, huh?" he asked, moving for his tunic and the small armory near the chair, beginning to fit his gear on. Reinmar, nodding as he sat up, brushed a hand over his wounds.

"Good." Tammas continued. "Took your time. Hadewig already left."

Hadewig was another one of Reinmar's roommates. Hadewig was half-blind, having lost sight in one eye after the trial of grasses. When Reinmar gave Tammas a questioning look, he received a simple shrug in response.

That was when Tammas slotted the last dagger into his armor before heading out, his blades vaguely clacking against each other before even that sound diminished.

Reinmar's eyes landed upon the final empty bed. That one belonging to another Phoenix called Cecilia. She had warned him for what was about to happen and he had not listened, too consumed with his own issues. He felt stupid for not having figured it out, would that he might have done something about it… or even prepare better.  
What he remembered from the Night of the Prophecy was a possessed Gedymin charing right past his defences, stabbing her as she stood defenselessly, holding the torch he had pushed into her hands.  
He remembered how she was gravely injured, bleeding profusely from injuries at both her chest and her throat by the time he lost consciousness. His face went pale at the sudden fear for the worst before his door once more opened, forcing his thoughts away as quickly as they appeared.

"Reinmar! You're up!" a voice exclaimed, though without true excitement. In the doorway stood Bastian, Gedymin's chosen apprentice, sword strapped to his back and a brow quirked before he promptly changed his previous statement. "Well. Sitting more like."

Reinmar offered a smile, though he did not get it returned. Bastian's face, though scarred before bore a fresh injury, a gash coming from a nasty hole in his jaw. Bastian was shot during the Night of the Prophecy, a crossbow bolt that cut right through his cheek. One that could as well have been lethal now left him brutally scarred, giving him a rough and hardened look.  
He remembered Bastian as a smiling and driver persona and yet the man before him was none of these. His eyes that once sparked with dedication had grown colder. The playful grin on his lips had turned grim.

Bastians hand flicked his own nose before emitting a loud sniff before moving to the window to peer outside. "Some have left already, like Jaeger and company. How's your travel looking?"

Bastian's answer came in the immediate movements of Reinmar who had promptly gotten up with a pained groan, needing a moment to stabilize before he began to gather his stuff. Gedymin's apprentice watched with unmasked scrutiny as his fellow Phoenix went to work, his movements clumsy and hindered, the bare chest still displaying the tense stitches keeping him from popping open like an overly laden linen potato bag. "What do you think you're doing?" he finally asked as Reinmar tied his stuff in a sheet, forming a makeshift travelling bag.  
"I've got to catch up. I'm travelling with Jaeger and Ruta." Reinmar responded.  
A short silence followed during which Reinmar could not pinpoint the plethora of facial expressions forming upon Bastian's face in the space of a few seconds before it settled back upon the bag. "You're not ready to travel yet." he stated matter-of-factly.

Reinmar returned a defiant gaze before being forced to sit as a stitch was threatening to pop. His hand covering the crime, he found his voice "I promised Jaeger."

"And a fat lot of good that'll do if you pop your stitches and die bleeding on the road." Bastian retorted calmly. Bastian had a way to bring his points across with brutal logic and counter arguments. Many would argue he'd make a fine politician, with that silver tongue of his, was it not for his urge for adventure and morals.

"They won't wait for me." Reinmar argued though knowing his point weak. "Indeed they won't. It just means you'll have to hurry up… once you're able." Bastian once more returned, now gesturing to the poorly packed sack. "And that'll lead you nowhere. Tell you what. Let's make a deal."  
It was Reinmar's turn to quirk an eyebrow, eyeing the man up and down. "Not selling mirrors, are you?" he asked, triggering a brief grin from Bastian's grim demeanor before once more being drawn back to the matter at hand. "No. But I'll pack you a bag and you focus on getting better. And if you can carry the pack I made you out of the room and down the hall without stumbling from your injuries, I won't stand in your way."  
Bastian's was right and as much as Reinmar hated it, he shook the outstretched hand begrudgingly.  
Bastian stood at that moment, adjusting the strap holding his sword with a solid tug before sniffing once more, peering at the door. "I'll see you at lunch. You missed breakfast." he said before moving to the door.

When Bastian looked back, he saw Reinmar's gaze land upon the empty bed once more. Reinmar's gaze was laden with pain and fear, the knot in his throat visible as he had a question he dared not ask out of fear for the answer.  
"She's with Gedymin." Bastian answered, drawing Reinmar's gaze. "He's been treating her but she hasn't woken up yet. Her wounds were severe. You can leave her a letter."  
Offering an acknowledging nod and a sincere "Good to have you back, brother." Bastian stepped out of the room, leaving Reinmar to his thoughts.


	5. A Harsh Lesson

The progress over the next few days was remarkable. Reinmar joining the morning workout by the side, gingerly attempting push-ups and making the run towards the statue a brisk walk instead.

Masters began to notice his attendance to lessons more regularly. Master Toril nodding slightly as he pulled open one of her lighter recurve bows, steadily moving toward the heavier angular ones. Though his shots did not hit the targets cleanly, she appreciated his efforts and allowed him to build up at his own pace.  
During the fencing classes he even began lifting the practice swords to make the basic cuts and stances under the gaze of Master Elinor. She, in turn, did not respond to his presence only to keep her focus upon those who could train and learn new things.

This routing lasted for a full week, steadily improving as his treatment was continued with light doses of Swallows which he helped making in the alchemy lab as soon as his hands could remain steady.  
It is by the end of that week and at the end of the final Fencing lesson that he walked up to Master Elinor, clearing his throat to gain her attention. She gazed up with a faint quirk in her eyebrow, her neck guard reflecting the falling sun. "If you want to talk, sure, but you make yourself useful and carry the swords with me to the armory."  
"Actually…" Reinmar interrupted, holding out one of the practice swords to Elinor whilst he kept his own in his hand. Her eyebrow lifted a bit more as she eyed the adept up and down. "You're challenging me?" she asked, almost amused by the thought.  
"No, Master Elinor…" he explained, "I intend to leave tomorrow and begin catching up to Master Jaeger and Master Ruta… I was hoping you'd give me a few pointers for on the trail."

Master Elinor eyed the handle before folding her hand around it and stepping back with a sigh. "Get in position then, adept." she stated, her tone gone cold.  
As Reinmar's feet shifted to take on his stance, firmly gripping the blade in front of him, the tip aimed towards his teacher's face, he nodded once as indication he was ready.  
"Do you remember my warmup?" Elinor broke the silence, her eyes flashing dangerously. Reinmar nodded slowly, confused as to what she was getting at.  
He had no time to figure it out either before she stepped in, her feet barely touching the ground as she closed the gap in but an instant. "Left elbow." she stated as her blade curved through the air. Reinmar was just quick enough to step aside and place his sword in the trajectory of her own, resounding a loud crack as the swords connected.  
Elinor was not done however, and her position offered an open blow to his elbow which she promptly took by slamming it with the pommel of her blade all the while keeping his sword immobilized.  
Reinmar staggered back as his elbow throbbed from pain, gazing up to see Elinor stand ready again. He steeled himself, setting himself back into position, foolishly believing he had an advantage now knowing what she would do.  
"Right knee." Elinor announced before coming close again. Reinmar's stance shifted, his blade angling down to take on the stance called "The Fool". Their swords cracked as he managed to upkeep a defense, but nothing in comparison to this woman who seemed to move faster than any Witcher he had ever seen.

The sharp pain as his knee got struck made him buckle down for just a moment as he forced himself to get up again, refusing to show weakness.

"You look like you've never held a blade and you hope to survive the Path?" Elinor spat, her eyes not leaving Reinmar's blade.  
This time, he came in quickly, using a basic cut which was easily deflected. The momentum continued and for a moment, their blades met repeatedly, leaving loud echoes of tapping across the courtyard.  
"Forehead." she said, loud enough only for Reinmar to hear and out of instinct, he stepped back and disengaged.  
This didn't help him as Elinor, now free to attack took up the chase and three blows later, Reinmar sat on a knee, clutching his head, one eye shut.

Several adepts were watching from afar, most in silence, others in horror at Reinmar's stubbornness every time he got up again.  
The display kept on for several minutes and it ended in the same way time and time again. They would trade blows followed by Master Elinor calling a body part and no more than three moves later, Reinmar would be struck.  
"Get up." she commanded after a vicious blow that got Reinmar to fall down to his stomach, panting and bruised.  
Despite the pain, the young adept got up again, forcing his legs to carry him. And time and time again, he would be knocked back down, Master Elinor's blows being more and more vicious.

This kept going until the sound of the horn announcing dinner. Reinmar sat down, peering up at Elinor, out of breath.  
"What did you learn?" She asked then, not having taken a single hit during their encounter. "That… I'm not fast enough.." Reinmar panted, his words coming out with each huffed exhale.

Elinor shook her head, leaning down to grab his chin and observe the bruise upon his cheek, shaking her head again. "You've got reason to return, because you're not ready. So out there? Don't think yourself a Witcher. Stay out of trouble and hurry along to find Masters Ruta and Jaeger." she said, her tone remaining quite stern, her eyes squinting mildly to observe if he had understood.  
She seemed satisfied with what she saw as she got up, throwing her practice sword in front of him and then pointing to the pile to the side. "I'm hungry. You get them to the armory. Before it rains, adept."

Aching and tired, Reinmar still did as asked, growling lightly as he bent over to pick up the swords and bring them to the armory.  
At the dinner table, he noted how some peered at him but no-one asked. Nor did he bother to tell them… He knew he would be gone in the morning.

His thoughts often trailed away from his plate, pondering on the next course of actions to take until a voice in front of him snapped him out of his thoughts. "Reinmar? Hello?" she said, sitting down and tilting her head with a faint grin. It was Bodil. "Where is your head off to?" she asked, sipping from her cup of wine.  
She only got a faint smile as Reinmar got up, nodding once to her. "The Path…" he uttered before turning to take his leave, leaving a confused Bodil by the table.

Upon entering his room, he gripped the backpack prepared by Bastian, heaving it up to his back. "What did he put in there? Rocks?" Reinmar complained before grunting as he stepped forward, testing his own balance before going down the hall. He felt pain, but most of it was from his newest bruises. He knew then that it was time…

The following morning, before the horn blew for the morning workout, Reinmar was up already, having checked and counted the contents of his backpack, he strapped his sword to his belt and marched out. A few masters and servants already awake wandered around where as some reacted, others let him pass.  
Outside, he marched down the steps and past the fountain, up to the bridge at the edge of the forest where he heard Bodil's voice call out from behind him.  
"Oh! I happen to go in the same direction." she lied, grinning. Her backpack long prepared, a sword at her own belt and her traveling cloak around her shoulders.  
"Two is better than one." she said, quelling any argument Reinmar might have. "Or are you really going to refuse my company?" she said, getting a frustrated sigh in return and a shake of his head.

In truth, he was glad for the company. The road would be quite long after all.

As the two adepts, Wolf and Cat crossed the bridge, the Viper dressed in black watched on, his head tilted.  
"So you think they're ready?" the newly appointed Grand Master Bastian asked Gedymin.  
Gedymin shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "No. At least he's not. She's one of your Claws after all."  
The Grand Master rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, peering at the adepts quickly becoming mere dots in the distance. "She went on the Path before… But why are you letting him go then?"  
Gedymin's mouth curled up in a smile. "Because he's finally thinking for himself."


	6. Closing Doors

The trek through the woods surrounding Kaer Marter took most of their day before the first village slowly came into view. "Over there!" Bodil exclaimed, happy at the prospect of some respite after a long days walk. Reinmar smiled as well as they stepped down the hill towards the valley.

The village was not very big. Several fields of wheat and vegetable patches littered the lands around the small grouping of houses. Some villagers were seen moving about in the distance. The village was built on a crossroad leading further into fields and rolling hills and yet the war had even turned this once peaceful village into a town guarded by militia armed with hunting bows and wood chopping axes. The occasional sword could be seen at some belts, though clubs and pitchforks are the weapons of choice for these simple folk.

As the pair was greeted by a weathered face. An older man glaring at them, barring the path into town, a re-purposed broomstick in hand to serve as a mace.  
"We seek shelter for the night.." Reinmar said, offering a kind smile which vanished as the man replied. "Your kind ain't welcome here no more, Witcher. Begone."  
Bodil frowned as she stepped forward. "Just a place to put out bedrolls out and rest. We won't be a bother."

The militiaman had no time to respond before a hysteric woman pointed at Reinmar, shouting. "That Witcher is the one who injured Tommy!"  
"Tommy..?" Reinmar asked, looking up in question.

A day before the Night of the Prophecy, there were villagers attacking Kaer Marter, shouting murder and throwing rotten food. Reinmar was in a fencing class as the peasants were routed by the Blue Stripes and a few warning shots made by adepts from the archery class. Reinmar had merely threatened them by holding his sword but never struck a blow.

As he turned to protest the accusation, he felt a sharp pain coursing through his body as the mace from the militiaman struck his shoulder, his body rocking from the blow as he dropped to a knee.  
"Aard!" Bodil shouted, her hand extended. The man flew back, leaving his mace where he was and Reinmar was forced back on his feet, the pain in his shoulder throbbing as the pair began to run.  
The sounds of a bell ringing in the village made it clear the militia was being rounded up to take chase, so the two just set to running into the northern woods. Reinmar, ignoring the pain, shook himself loose from Bodil as he recovered from the shock, his face contorted in a glare.

He felt like turning and tackling Bodil to the ground. He felt like ruining her for everything the Witchers did to those villagers. For every horror unleashed and every monster escaped. For every elf raid and every child taken.  
And those were the emotions he knew were not his own. Reinmar was able to feel strong emotions of those around him since he passed his Trial of Grasses. An ability he could not control, but was slowly beginning to identify. The emotions of these villagers ran deep and flared brightly in his mind, forcing him to focus the anger into moving forward lest he lost grasp of his rational mind by attacking Bodil.

The chase did not last long as the pair was faster even after a long journey, their mutation allowing them to cover more ground with little extra effort. Yet they decided to travel onwards until the sun would be nearly gone. A choice made to ensure their night would pass without incident.  
"Camping it is..." Bodil sighed as she began to walk around for a spot to pin her tent. As she turned to Reinmar to request his aid in gathering wood, she ended up holding her words. Seeing him kneeled with his eyes closed told her all she needed to know and she left him to it, gathering the wood for the fire.

Reinmar was taught how to meditate by his first Signs teacher, Master Vreni. She had taken him under his wing after the Trial of Grasses when he told her he had issues controlling his emotions. That is when she taught him the fine arts of meditation. How to center himself and balance his thoughts and energy. How to empty himself and shut everything around him out. She gave him a reason to feel safe and a place to find peace when the tension became too high… until she left. To this day, he still doesn't know why she left the school, but it left him lost and he had not yet finished the study of meditation.

When Reinmar opened his eyes, the night had already progressed. The fire was burning in front of him and Bodil was sat over it, gnawing at a root she had scavenged for food. In front of him was the same, and Reinmar just sucked onto the root, taking in the bitter and sharp taste of the juices coming out. They huddled over the fire, warming their hands as they tried to enjoy the poor meal.  
"Why did you let yourself get hit?" Bodil piped up, breaking the silence which caused Reinmar to look up, an eyebrow quirked.  
"It's not like I wanted to. I didn't see the blow coming." He retorted, sighing deeply in frustration.  
He was careless. And would it have been a sword, he would probably have lost his arm, or worse.  
"I got off easy with just a bruise… But I'll be more careful next time."  
This seemed to please Bodil enough as she nodded and didn't scold him further.

They took turns to guard duty as they went to rest, Bodil sleeping first as Reinmar has come back with some new energy from his meditation. His watch was uneventful. The night brought him peace, nothing but the rustling of leaves breaking the silence, the occasional cricket being heard in the background, the distant howling of wolves guarding their grounds at night.  
He woke Bodil when it was her turn to take the guard until sunrise and time to continue their journey.

Reinmar laid his head down and sleep did not catch him quickly. He recalled the numerous talks he has over the past few days with Bastian, Gedymin, Jaeger, Ruta and many others. About everything that happened at the castle. About how he changed a bit over a year ago, choosing to abandon the life of comfort as Redanian noble to among the trees in a Temerian forest as what many would call a freak. A Witcher.

A sharp whistling sound broke the silence, quickly joined by a yelp from Bodil as an arrow pinned itself into a nearby tree. The shot was neat and within moments, both Reinmar and Bodil were standing, their swords in hand and backs pressed to trees on the other side.  
"You are not welcome here!" a voice shouted from the forest.  
"Again…?" Reinmar sighed before Bodil's gaze landed on the arrow. The feathers a dark shade of red. The craftsmanship nearing perfection.  
"Leave, Vatt'ghern." The voice spoke up again.

When Reinmar's eyes crossed Bodil's, he saw a deep hatred lurking within her. He saw the hate staring him right in the face like a hideous beast about to devour him whole. Her chest heaved before a grin formed on her face, one resembling maddened glee as she suddenly dashed from tree to tree. There was no doubt that Bodil was a Witcher of the school of the Cat at that time, quickly into the shadow and as silent as the night itself.

"You chose to ally yourself with Temeria. You broke your own neutrality. Leave and we won't harm you." The voice came again.  
Despite himself, Reinmar hurried after Bodil, knowing that expression from Tammas, he knew what would happen.  
His mind raced as he moved forward. It made no sense. The Aen Seidhe would not fire a warning shot if they had a clean kill. They were either toying with them or they thought they were spotted and are trusting the instinct of a Witcher not to attack an unseen aggressor. They had never met Bodil.  
Bodil had openly hated Elves for years as she was a victim from the horrors of the rebellion and found great pleasure in discussing the numerous ways she would kill them. In this situation, her hatred would probably lead her to her death.

Her hate for the elves affected him in turn, giving him relief in knowing she was still nearby but he could not see her. By the time he heard the rushing footsteps of a charging attack, he was too late. He heard a woman scream and rushed forward to the sound. He let the tumult of fighting guide his steps only for his eyes to widen upon witnessing the scene before him.  
Bodil was stood over an elven woman, he blade bloodied by the blood of the fallen man near her. Several others were shuffling back, keeping the younger ones at bay. This was a caravan. A band of traveling elves, scarcely armed. He awoke upon the scream of a child as Bodil drove her blade through the woman's chest.  
His sword in hand, he rushed forward to stop her, yet his intentions were misunderstood as another elven woman, he sword in hand intercepted him. Within moments, he was locked in a desperate battle, parrying blow after blow of attacks that went too fast for his eyes to see. Only his instinct was keeping the blade from scoring a hit.  
"Out of my way!" he shouted. "I'm trying to stop he-.."  
His words were cut short as another elf darted past, aiming a low strike for Reinmar's exposed legs. He jumped high, just enough to avoid the vicious attack that would have hamstrung him.

Bodil's rampage continued as she too faced some of the brave elves that drew steel to fight them off. It was clear to Reinmar that these elves were not Scoia'tael, but that did not seem to matter to Bodil who struck down yet another, the cuts on her own body barely stopping the bloodthirsty rampage she found herself in.  
Pressed to stop her, Reinmar rushed forward after scoring a backhanded strike to the elven woman before him. He darted forward the moment he found his opening to only just slam his blade against hers before she struck down a cowering child. The ringing of steel seemed to wake her only enough to realize who she was facing. Her voice came out shrill and full of hate. "Out of my way! They're monsters!" she shouted at the top of her lungs before pushing her sword off Reinmar's, disengaging only to try and step around him.

Reinmar saw an archer train his arrow upon Bodil at that moment, seeing an opening as Bodil seemed intent on killing the youngling. He charged forward, barging his shoulder into Bodil as the arrow flew from the bow. Bodil flew to the side from the force of the blow, rolling into the forest floor as Reinmar took the arrow into his arm.  
Growling from pain, he glared at the archer, it was his turn to shout. "Run you knife-eared idiot!" His words were partially fueled by the hate he was feeling for this entire kin, a hate funneled through Bodil and his urge to do what is right. "Run before she recovers! Get your family to safety!"

The archer seemed to hesitate, having the upper hand, he chose to nock another arrow, his eyes flaring with the intent to kill.  
Reinmar saw Bodil rise as the archer trained the arrow on him. He would not have time to dodge the arrow, nor to stop Bodil. His only choice was to cast. If he chose to Aard the archer, he would doom the man to be killed by Bodil's charge… Or cast his Aard on Bodil and take the shot. His mind raced as he centered his energies, his amulet trembling with the pent up energy.  
He suddenly charged forward for the archer, arms crossing over his head as his voice thundered a clear command.

"QUEN!"  
The arrow came loose and shattered against the powerful shield conjured by the young Witcher. His sword still above him, he skidded on a single knee, angling the blade to meet the downward slash of Bodil within but an inch from striking down the elf who needed no further motivation to run. The elves scattered upon the view of the battle between the two Witchers, seeing their chance given by Reinmar.

Bodil kept her strikes going, in a fury of rage and bloodlust, Reinmar was forced to parry her every move. The sounds of steel ringing against steel echoed through the night until Reinmar finally managed to step in and disarm her. It is unclear if he waited for her to calm down or got tired, but once she was on the ground, he faced her glare only for her fury to slowly change to recognition. "Why did you stop me?!" she asked, her words dripping with venom before Reinmar stepped off her, carefully, his blade still between them in case she would attack again.  
The attack didn't come, however. She sheathed her blade and hung her head. "I do not need you not save me, Reinmar! I do not need anyone to tell me what to do! I can decide for myself and Elves deserve only death!"  
Reinmar's felt an emptiness inside. He was tired and he felt… nothing. He embraced this feeling finding only reason to respond with a cold. "And I don't need you to convince me I should have let you go on a murderous rampage. We both made a choice and mine was to stop you."

Bodil fell silent the tone and logic of his words stunner her more than his blow did during the battle. His tone remained flat, Reinmar fighting hard to hold on to that cold impassive feeling out of fear for the other emotions welling up within him. "And if you choose to murder children… We should part. For I head west through Brokkilon."  
Bodil opened her mouth to respond but Reinmar merely sheathed his sword. "And you head North in search for Jana."

"But Reinmar-..." she began to protest but was met with the full brunt of Reinmars fist connecting with her jaw, sending her reeling backwards. The tears welling up in her eyes from the pain within her chest as much as that within her cheek. It was when she raised her head to see the corpse of a little elven girl, no older than six that she realised the source of his rage. The dead girl staring at her with the same empty eyes Reinmar held upon her moments before he struck her.

Reinmar ran after he hit her, his chest physically in pain from the emotional turmoil raging within him. He had loved Bodil. But the woman he saw now. The woman she chose to be after the trials left him wondering. Is this why Witchers travel alone? Are they all in their own way a monster they're forbidden to kill?

His legs carried him as fast as they could through the woods. His heart breaking with every leap. Witchers aren't meant to love. Witchers are meant to kill… and what they kill is a choice each of them has to make.


	7. Child of the Bear

Reinmar spent a whole night and the following day moving as far away from the place he had stopped Bodil from butchering the Elves they came across. His travel was quiet aside from the turmoil in his mind. A turmoil he kept telling himself he had no time for, no room for if he wanted to catch up with Ruta and Jaeger at all.

Nearing sundown of the following day, Reinmar came upon a settlement. He heard it before he saw it, however. A small crossroad with a caravan who had chosen to set up camp there.  
"What do you mean, half price for half a job?!" he heard a familiar voice call out. "I kept four Nekkers... FOUR! Busy while you placed the bomb in!"  
Reinmar spotted a caravan guard pulling his sword out and walking towards his friend. Reinmar darted forward. With cat-like grace, he spun before the man, his hand waving out as the arcane energies poured through him when speaking the command. "Axii..."  
The guardsman blinked before his gaze got vague and his eyes glazed over.  
"Go eat a second helping of dinner." Reinmar ordered, happy to see the caravan guard comply, letting go of the sword and heading to the cart with provisions.

"Aye, and we put the bomb in! Risked our hide, Witcher! Fifty Orens is what you get, no more!"  
Reinmar turned back to the turmoil, his eyes flashing around camp to assess the situation. Three guards. On edge and wearing steel. Considering the dangers, these were probably guards for hire or mercenaries, nothing as simple as bandits or militiamen. The Witcher arguing with the caravan master resorted to growls, his fists shaking before his hand flashed forward.  
Reinmar darted out of his hiding place at blurring speed, coming out of the shade only to catch the fist in his hand, clenching it shut. The Caravan master ducked out of the way on instinct, the four guards drawing weapons and stepping forward.

Hadewig blinked at Reinmar in disbelief, stunned. Reinmar used this chance. "Fifty Orens'll do fine. And one ham, yes? We'll be on our way then."  
The caravan master, intimidated by the scene and knowing well he would be not match for two trained Witchers deposited the money and sack of ham in Reinmars hand who turned to Hadewig, his eyes flashing dangerously. Hadewig, whilst lost in a haze of confusion and rage, followed Reinmar.  
Once out of sight of the caravan, Hadewig spoke out. "What are you doing here?! You're meant to be in bed!"  
Reinmar shrugged at the last. "I'm catching up to Ruta and Jaeger. I could ask you the same question."

The pair observed each other in silence for a moment before they embraced one another as brothers. It took no words for either to express the turmoil they are in since the Night of the Prophecy. Hadewig was another of Reinmars brothers amongst the Phoenixes, He had lost sight in one eye after the Trials and had been struggling with rage ever since. They had trained together under Master Vreni who had taught Reinmar to not get overwhelmed by other peoples emotions and had tried to teach them both an advanced form of meditation.  
"I'm looking for her." Hadewig spoke, peering at Reinmar as they walked down the path, peering at his hands. "I can barely hold it back since that night. Everything makes me so angry."

Reinmar of all people understood the turmoil his friend was going through. His hand slowly raiding to place a comforting hold on his shoulder. "Remember who you are. You'll find her, yes?"  
This sparked the typically cocky grin back upon Hadewig's features, his chest inflating as he bawls out and "Of course!"  
The man oozed out confidence and even a certain kind of pride which for anyone who didn't know him, would be the flawless disguise of the pained man hidden within. Reinmar, however, merely nodded, flashing a smile at seeing his friend in high spirits despite their predicament.

"Where are you headed?" Hadewig answered once they paused at the next crossroad.  
"East. To Skellige." Reinmar replied nodding ot the path curving northwest, circling around the forest of Brokilon. "And you?"  
Hadewig nodded to the path heading east,  
The brothers bid each other farewell there and then. Knowing they would meet again within the domain of Kaer Marter once they had done what they intended.  
"Don't punch a stranger!" Reinmar called out, only to get a "Don't fuck a Dryad!" back from Hadewig, flipping him a finger before raising his hand in farewell, stepping down the hillside.

Reinmar followed his path north for a while, peering to his left to notice the thick outline of the forest of Brokilon just over the edge of large wild fields.

"Don't underestimate Brokilon..." Reinmar heard Eydis say the day before he left. The young Skellige temple guard of the Frostwolves. "If you go through there. Be informed."  
Reinmar chuckled lightly, reaching into his back, he pulled out his wood axe, joined by several torches he had prepared, dropping them all on the path for the first traveler to be lucky enough to pass by.

Several hours later, when the sun had set and Reinmar's eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, he reached the edge of the forest. Straight through this forest would be the shoreline closes to Skellige and he would have gained several days on Jaeger and Ruta.  
After a deep breath, Reinmar stepped forward into the ancient forest, blissfully unaware of the sacred grounds he was now entering the sacred domain of Dryads, Leprechauns and Pucks, most hostile to humans.

The trees were old and gigantic, thick and towering over the canopy, stretching to the sky and coating the land in darkness. There were no roads appearent, no visible path. Everything was overgrown with bushes, plants and thick roots of trees sticking out. The wind causing branches to crack and the trees groaning, like an ancient tongue speakign with eachother.  
Several minutes in, moving through the difficult terrain, Reinmar could no longer tell where he came from. He used the moon as guide to ensure he was moving in the right direction, noting her position every time he saw her through the canopy of leaves over his head.

Despite how careful he was with every step, he felt a crunch under his boot. Peering down, he saw how he had crushed a thick forest mushroom. His eyes darted around quickly before he moved forward, uttering "Squass'me.." under his breath doing his very best to recall the ancient words he had learned during the runecrafting class.  
Again, he felt something at his feet as a root had seemingly curled around his ankle. His attempt to free himself caused him to fall down as his vision became blurry, the trees dancing around him as he swore he could hear laughter around him.  
Reinmar's breathing quickened as he began to run through the woods. The voices were laughing and echoing as if coming from the trees themselves. The trees who had gained hideous laughing faces, amplifying the terror within Reinmar's delusion.  
"Raenn! Raenn, baeg Vatt'ghern!"

Reinmar could not understand the language, nor located it, but it was clear to him he was in danger. He stood quickly, his sword flashing in his hand as he gazed around, unable to force his vision to focus upon anything.  
"Vatt'ghern esse ymladdae?... Foilé."  
The language was clearly the Elder Speech, and yet Reinmar understood none, he spoke up, his voice barely echoing, drowned out. "I wish you no harm, only passage!" he shouted, his entire body shaking to remain standing, his vision darting from left to right, seeing monstrous shapes coming out of the forest. He was certain he would die.  
The Dryad stood before the petrified Reinmar who was in truth still stood upon the mushroom. His eyes glazed as the spores led him in a hallucination most profound. The young witcher paralyzed, his eyes glazed back in a gooey green substance. The Dryad grinned lightly, heaving her bow as she leveled her arrow with Reinmar's head.  
"Va faill, Vatt'ghern." she uttered as she drew her bow, the arrow steadily hovering but an inch before Reinmar's head.  
At least he would feel no pain.  
"Voe'rle, Wedd Brokiloéne!" a womans voice shouted out. The Dryad looked up, lowering her bow,

As Reinmar awoke from his nightmare, he gazed up to notice he was still in the woods. He felt upon his body to find out he only had a thin layer of linen on him. His weapons and bag had been taken. As he fought to move, his limbs were heavy and clumsy, his eyes darting about to find out which predicament he was in only to hear a hush from the woman that proved his salvation. When he looked up, he saw an elven woman by his stuff, his pack had been emptied and his provisions were ordened around. She stepped forward, drawing her knife.

Reinmar's alarms went off as he tried to shuffle backwards in vein. She rolled her eyes only to lean in and peel off the leaves that were placed under his eyes. A remedy for the spores that infected him.  
"You're safe now, Vatt'ghern. And we are even. Once I guide you out of here." she said. That is when Reinmar recognized her. She was the woman he had saved from Bodil's blade just a day before. So they were truly headed for the forest of Brokilon, elven refugees from all the war and fighting.  
The woman glared at him as he sat up, his eyes landing upon his blade which hung on a branch just behind her.  
"Don't get any funny ideas, Witcher. I'm not a defenseless woman." she replied, tapping the bow which was now resting against her shoulder, the string taut across the curve. Reinmar had heard of the speed an elf could loose an arrow and he cared not to test it.  
"You're either stupid or suicidal to enter the forest of Brokilon willingly. Which one is it?"

Reinmar paused before offering a tentative smile. "Parts bravely... parts foolishness. It's the measure that brings success."  
He flashed a grin, in the hope to appeal to some friendly sense of humor but was only met with a sigh and a ruffle as his gear was thrown on the floor in his general direction.  
"I'm Neánne. And I'll be guiding you through Brokilon. Don't get me wrong. I did this because the Dryads put me in charge of you. Fuck up and I will kill you myself."

Reinmar frowned, about to speak up only to be interrupted. "If I'm not with you, you're dead. Be it by Dryad magic or an arrow. I owe you my life, now you owe me yours."  
Reinmar's frown deepened, his eyes squinting in distrust, though he was forced to agree despite the dangers. He was at a total disadvantage in these unknown and ancient lands.  
"Now that we have come to an agreement... You will step where I step. You will not break anything. You will not eat anything unless it is given by me. And we will head Wes-..."  
"East." Reinmar interceded, gaining a glare from Neánne, The burning gaze he got from Reinmar however caused her glare to turn questioning.  
"I made a vow to my kin but also to the one I wish to call Master. Jaeger of the Bear. That vow takes me east to the isles of Skellige. I will not accept any delay. If you won't guide me there, I will take the risk of death over turning back."  
Neánne stared at Reinmar for a longer time before she nodded. "Have it your way." The hint of a smile upon her lips as she began to pack up his stuff back into his bag.  
"It is almost morning. You spent the night in nightmares, but your body rested. We go, Arthwedd "  
Reinmar tilted his head. "I though Vatt'ghern meant Witcher..."  
The woman turned from the direction she had begun walking. "It is. But you are a Child of the Bear to me."


	8. To be Reborn

Reinmar began to sort his stuff back into his bag, peering around briefly as he tries to memorize his whereabouts, figuring it would be safer to get his own bearing. It was pointless, the forest was so thick and similar in every direction he quickly gave up.

Rations, arrow tips, spare water skins, whetstones, a knife. Reinmar blinked upon retrieving an odd item to be in a backpack. The stone in his hand was a brick from the castle. Reinmar couldn't help but chuckle. Bastian Daragostia... Always ready to prove a point.  
"If you're done with all your internal fun, Arthwedd, we're going."  
Neánne's voice snapped him out of his memory of first meeting the man that turned out to be his friend through the past year. They hadn't always agreed but had always managed to respect each other and step against all challenges the school had thrown at them so far.  
"Now! Not even a day in and I feel like I'm already mothering you."  
Reinmar raised his hand in reply before stuffing his bag again, including the brick. "I'm coming, I'm coming. And trust me, you wouldn't have enjoyed being my mother. I make a terrible child."  
Flashing another grin which was merely responded with a sneer, Reinmar finished packing and stood to move on, securing his sword.

They moved quite swiftly. Reinmar lacked the grace Neánne had to effortlessly skip through the brush, but he could keep up well enough.  
Brokilon was thick, and the continuous threat of being followed lingered on all of Reinmar's senses. It was clear he was unwelcome, and the fact they were headed east probably did not sit well with the guardians of this place.

The travel took a few days, though remained quite uneventful. Reinmar lived on the skinniest of rations given to him by his guide, who he knew was conferring with Dryads when they thought him asleep. They were guiding him through deserted zones, keeping any refugees or wild animals out of their way until he was gone, forced to run for hours on end just to speed up his departure from these lands.  
He did not complain. Despite the tales of wonder and miracle spoken of the ancient forest, he had no wish to return here. Let the elves have their secrets and refuge. His curiosity could be sated with history books and stories of those lucky few who had obtained welcome, how limited it may be.

"So... Are you Scoia'tael?" Reinmar asked on the third night as he hunched under a blanket against the nights chill, his legs burning and aching from the ceaseless physical exertion.  
Neánne's eyes landed on Reinmar. Every time she gazed at him, he felt the judgement in her mind as hard as any weapon could strike. She took a moment before nodding once, flicking an apple his way after speaking the appropriate thanks of her kind.  
Reinmar exhaled a deep sigh, his thoughts sending him back to his talks with Bodil and Tammas.  
"You disapprove?" Neánne asked, catching Reinmar off guard. Often, his attempts at conversation were met by closed responses.  
"No..." Reinmar said slowly, chewing on his words. He knew he had to be careful here.  
"But...?" Neánne prompted.

Reinmar's mind raced back to the times Tammas' rage was outed by tales of his burning village. By the stories of murdered families like Bodil's. Even Captain Mia's stories of when she was out in the field. The countless ambushes and raids on villagers.  
Reinmar met Neánne's gaze briefly. "Like in every war... You have those who fight for a cause and those who ensure the fighting continues."  
His words were met by a questioning gaze, to which Reinmar continued.  
"You have the soldiers who follow orders... You have the ones who fight to protect what is dear to them... And you have those who fight because they like the power. They're the dangerous ones."

It was clear his elven companion did not understand.  
"Those who harm civilians... Who plunder and rape. Who murder or torture whole families."  
Neánne's eyes went cold as she stared at him. "We do upon them what they have done upon us for years."  
The tone of her voice was dangerous and threatening. And while Reinmar knew very well he would be at a horrendous disadvantage should this go out of hand, he did not shy from stating his thoughts. "And that is what keeps the fighting going."

Neánne's chest begain to rise and fall as the building anger coursed adrenaline through her veins. He knew that gaze for he had seen it within Bodil's eyes just a week before, saving this very woman from certain death.  
Reinmar sighed and shook his head. "I don't care why you fight or what you do. Witchers don't meddle in wars. We kill monsters."  
Neánne resorted to silence as she turned to lay down and find her sleep.  
Reinmar did the same.

He awoke to the telltale sound of Neánne packing her gear and like the few days before, he did the same. Though this time, no words were exchanged. Not even a glance, for she darted away. Reinmar hurried to grab his blade and bag before hurrying after her. It took them a few hours before they finally neared the woods edge. It had been three days since the encounter with the Dryad and Neánne's promise was nearly fulfilled.  
"Just an hour of travel left. You're almost out of the woods, Arthwedd" Neánne said, peering at Reinmar briefly.  
Reinmar offered a grateful smile. About to voice it before another voice came from the bushes ahead. "Neánne?"

A tall male elf stepped out, his face covered by a bandanna, his hair shaved and a ring strapped to his right ear. "Tarek!" Neánna spoke out before running forward to embrace the elf. Reinmar stayed back, careful about the new arrival.

"If you're back... That means..-" Neánna said, her voice filled with joy and hope as she began to move past the one she called Tarek to look for the one who would fill her with such. Her hand was grabbed by Tarek however whose face remained grim. He shook his head. "We went to raid a farm for supplies... We succeeded and were ready to leave but he stayed back to burn the bodies."  
Reinmar tensed as the story proceeded.  
"He didn't return... We found him dead. He was killed by a Vatt'ghern bearing the wolf. He wore many blades and slayed him without a second thought."

Reinmar's eyes closed slowly before he opened them again, remaining silent. Though despite his attempt, Tarek's sand-colored eyes did land upon him and as he feared, the hate came up.  
Neánne was in shock. His eyes wide and tears rolling down her face. She trembled heavily, her face pale, her hands balled to fists. She slowly turned to look at Reinmar, though she did not see him. Her stance straightened as the deepest, purest form of hate radiated from her eyes.

Reinmar's mutation reeled up at the same time. He felt the sorrow tearing his chest apart. He felt the loathing and disgust. He felt the exhaustion and hate... and then he felt the bloodlust. The same he had felt when Bodil had snapped. His empathy saved him that day, as everything seemed to slow down.  
Neánne reached for bow and arrow at the same time Tarik gripped his blade and called for his friends.  
Reinmar's arms crossed as his amulet reverberated with the energies he was absorbing.  
A faint yellow hue danced around his arms as the energies could not stabilize, volatile due to the turmoil of emotions he was experiencing, hardly any of them his own.  
"Quen!" he commanded the energies that coated his body when an arrow came flying.  
The steel tip hitting true, but diverted by the unstable protection which caused the energy to disperse in a wild explosion around Reinmar. Tarik, who had run forward was blasted back by the exploding Quen, flying back into Neánne who was reaching for her second arrow.  
This was his chance.

Reinmar darted. His sword had appeared in his hands as he allowed his instincts to do the work of his physical form, focusing his mind on the strategy and dangers.  
His legs carried him forward rapidly though the arrows kept flying past him, thudding in several tree trunks dangerously near his path as he skipped between trees. There was no way he could stand his ground there, not with Dryads nearby, so he ran, using the tightest clusters of trees he could find to obstruct the archers view, though this allowed Tarek and another to close in.

Any normal man would have been caught by now, but a Witcher a year past his trials was faster, stronger, his instincts were sharper. And yet despite that, he could not avoid sudden sting of an arrow scratching his shoulder.  
Reinmar cursed out loud as he kept running, spotting a Dryad behind him, darting with the Scoia'tael band, murder in their eyes, vengeance for the nameless elf that died after burning a barn full of people.  
For all the hate he felt, Reinmar knew none of it was his. He knew at that moment that he cared only for survival. That he had another goal. Another destiny. He knew at that moment that he would survive, for he wasn't blind, he could see past their emotions.

As soon as he began to seeing the edge of the trees, a voice rang in his mind. A memory of a masters words, one who he had not had classes from. Master Dirk's words broke through the intruding emotions. "You're strategic. Impressive, Adept. What's your number? Seventy-three, I'm going to remember you."  
Strategic... Reinmar nodded in his stride as more returned to him.  
"Witchers -must- be neutral. If we don't, we've already broken our oath and failed out mission. And that means sometimes we must do things we don't like."  
And like that, his plan formed. He would survive.

His lips moved in a light countdown...  
Three... Two.. One...  
Reinmar spun upon himself, his sword parrying the blow he had anticipated from Tarek, Metal against metal rang loudly before he placed his hand against the elf's chest.  
"Aard!" was his command word this time, blasting the elf back in time for the second one to arrive. One-on-one would give him a chance. Fighting a group would put him a disadvantage.  
He stepped in, having footing over the elf, he heard another masters voice.  
"Footing is critical in swordplay. No footing, you're dead."  
It was Master Reinecke. Reinmar's sword flashed in as he cut through flesh and bone of the elfs wrist, sending the blade with the hand still tightly gripped around the hilt flying, the elf collapsing in an agonizing scream. They would slow down to aid their companion.

"Every plan you make will fail! So, make sure you have options." – It was Master Lennard's turn, triggering the next phase of his plan. Reinmar ran in a straight line, speed over dodging. Once clear of the trees, he would stand more of a chance, for the elves would retreat and care for their companion.  
His plan was good. Great, in fact. But no plan would be free from that one stray arrow. For the one blind shot that would strike true.  
An explosion of pain burst through Reinmar as the arrow sunk through his shoulder, causing him to stumble and groan in pain, the shaft passing through his gambeson, his muscle, his flesh only to come out bloody on the other end.  
It mattered not... Run or die. And so he ran.  
He ran till long after he had passed the trees. Long after he heard the shouts of elves behind him. Long after the last arrow whistled pas his face.

He heard the words of Master Ruta in his mind. "Give up?... Not a chance, Master Ruta... You just watch... You just wait..."  
Pale and exhausted, Reinmar kept moving, his right side coated in blood, the pain throbbing in his shoulder, his legs barely able to carry him further and yet he continued to walk.

He walked till he saw a village by the water. He walked till he saw the large Skellige ships in the harbor. He walked and never remembered stopping his stride until he saw the band of Witchers who had left with Ruta and Jaeger.  
He was nearly there, and yet his legs gave out. So close, though his body had nothing more to give.  
His vision went blurry.  
"Oi. You look like shit, mate." he heard a familiar voice. His eyes opened only to realize he fell to his back, his hair soaked in sweat, his beard bloodied, his blade still in hand. He saw the telltale red liquid being hovered over his face.  
"You want this? You'll owe me one. You're a fucking nut-job going through Brokilon, though. Saw you running though you never stopped.  
"Baldwin..." Reinmar's voice came out a faint groan.  
"I know who I am, drink up, big boy. Come on. Master Jaeger'll have my arse if you die in my arms."

The red liquid went down his throat. The chemical substance breaking down immediately to get to work. Reinmar barely felt the arrow being yanked out by Baldwin after pouring the potion in, applying pressure upon the wound till the healing would take effect enough to ensure he doesn't bleed out.  
When he recovered enough, he slowly scrambled up to his feet, using what little energy he had to move forward, eyes fixating on the ship he saw Jaeger walk on.  
"Your welcome, by the way..." Baldwin shouted after him with a quirked eyebrow, uttering a quick "...ungrateful prick." under his breath at the lack of response from Reinmar, though he couldn't help but grin.

The minutes of his final march seemed to last for hours. Every step going quicker until he once more managed a light jog, adrenaline taking over his movements as the realization began to dawn he had made it. "Thanks!" he shouted after Baldwin before stepping up the docks.

Jaeger, towering over the adepts stood near the stern of the ship, talking to Ruta when he heard the muttering of adepts as Reinmar boarded the ship, dropping with a heavy thud to his knees before the pair. His head tilted back to look up with a bewildered grin, his chest heaving, hungering for every breath.  
Jaeger's teeth flashed a dangerous grin when he shared a gaze with Ruta who merely shrugged and raised her hands. "All yours."

Jaeger turned to Reinmar to pull him to his feet. A single great heave was all it took the Bear Master to get him straightened up.  
"Get cleaned up and rest, Reinmar. Once we arrive on Skellige, the real training begins. You crazy fuck..."  
Jaegers gaze trailed from Reinmar to the other adepts, the wind whipping his scarf back.  
"You're not a bear yet, kid."


End file.
